


Typing Reports

by tarradiddle



Category: Batman Beyond
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Melancholy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 02:23:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarradiddle/pseuds/tarradiddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Written for comicdrabbles prompt: Fingers)</p>
<p>Terry drops by Barbara’s office on a rainy night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Typing Reports

Tap, tap...tap tap tap. Rain against the glass. Fingers on the keys.  
  
Typing reports.  
  
Again.  
  
Was that all she did these days? Paperwork? Was this what her life had come to?  
  
 _You're getting melodramatic in your old age, Barbara,_ she thought wryly. She sighed and reached for her coffee, but her hand suddenly cramped, her grip failed. She fumbled for the mug and managed to keep it from crashing to the floor, but lukewarm coffee spilled over the corner of the desk and into the ancient carpet. “Shit,” she whispered.  
  
“You okay, Commish?” came a low voice from the window behind her.  
  
 _No,_ she thought. _Clinging to rooftop edges through most of your youth plays hell with your joints if you manage to live through it._ But all she said was: “Fine. What do you want, kid?”  
  
Terry didn't move to come in from the ledge, despite the rain, but his fierce grin winked at her through the gloom. “Brought you a present.” He eased the window open a bit more and held out a plastic-wrapped disk.  
  
“If those're the traces on the suppliers for that new splicing lab, you could have just sent them through the computer.”  
  
“Slow night.”  
  
“Uh-huh.” _I don't need checking up on._ She reached out and took the disk. “Anything else?”  
  
“Nah. Better get back out there.” He leaned back into the alley. “Take care, Commish.”  
  
She gave him a nod, and he vanished into the dark. She thought she heard the whine of the Batmobile receding dimly.  
  
Barbara glared at the disk in her hand. She might have imagined that the kid held onto it for an extra half-second until her grip was firm. But she didn't think so.  
  
 _Nothing to be done about it now._ She slid the disk into her computer and leaned back while her personal decryption program processed, absently massaging flexibility back into her hand and listening to the rain.


End file.
